Languedoc, South of France
“We got rid of him.” Bernard chuckled and rubbed his hands together.
Michael felt his face flush with fear at the thought that now he had children's blood on his hands. “You got rid of who?” he shouted. They were standing outside the chausseurs' small, mean hovel. Even though it was warm, Michael shivered.
“The informant.”
“You were not supposed to get rid of him,” Michael snarled.
Mon dieu, Michael thought, these two could not be any more stupid. It is likely they were just bloodthirsty, killing the informant at the slightest provocation.
Bernard shrugged. “He did not wish to cooperate, so...” He made a cutting motion at his throat with a sick smile. “He said he did not want the children to come to any harm. Hah!”
“So you killed him.” Michael looked away, sickened by another death. Then he felt a surge of anger. “You fool. Do not ever make that decision, either you or your brother, without direct orders.”
Bernard laughed. “Poor, poor Michael, do you feel badly for him? Maybe someday it will be your turn, eh?” With a crack of a twig underfoot, he took a step closer until his face was inches away from Michael's”
His anger dissipated, turning into cold fear. He could feel the chasseur's warm breath on his face and his knees trembled. He knew this idiot could blithely kill him, surely in the most painful way his limited faculties could conjure up, and then think about the consequences later. He mentally cursed Jacques for forcing him to deal with deranged villains. What am I thinking? Papa would relish the opportunity to put me in a situation where I have to defend myself. He took a deep breath and attempted what he hoped was a fierce expression.
“Are you threatening me, Bernard?” he asked with as much bravado as he could muster. “Remember, I know why you are so loyal to my father.”
Bernard's shoulders fell. He stepped backward.
Michael mentally relaxed. This time I am saved. “You will take orders from me,” he added.
Bernard nodded with a look of distaste.
I have just barely reined him in, Michael thought. He gave the brute new orders and walked quickly away through the vineyard, toward the manse.
Michael always knew they were dangerous. When they passed the transition from boys to men, they committed the horrific crime that made them slaves to his father. He thought of the blood spattered on the walls of their ramshackle cottage, the image of their mother, on the floor, her legs splayed at an unnatural angle, her head a bloody mess. Their father sat slumped against a tree, his head a similar, hatcheted soup of brain, blood and flecks of bone.
Michael, home from school that day, joined his papa in the vineyard, where the beautiful, sunny day was cleaved by unnerving, squealing screams. They sped toward the piercing sounds, stopping short in front of the cottage, by the sight of a blood-soaked Bernard, holding a red-dripping hatchet. His eyes were inhuman and for a second, Michael thought he and his father would be the next victims. Instead, Bernard, violently shaking, dropped his weapon. Claude, with his clothes also drenched with blood, joined his brother, where they began to chronicle the abuse that had occurred in the cottage since the twins' birth.
Michael was incredulous when Jacques, instead of turning the hulking twins over to the police, helped them bury their parents and eliminate the evidence. Michael watched, standing against a tree until his shaking legs could no longer support him. He slumped down and sat, stunned as his father directed the chasseurs in the disposition of the scene.
While walking back to the manse, Jacques explained his actions with a smug smile. “Now they belong to me.”
Since that day, Jacques used the chasseurs to do his bidding and the two respected him. Michael had no doubt that when Jacques was gone, the two would happily eradicate him, their only witness, rather than give him an iota of the same respect.
****
They attempted to get past the reporters without being noticed but were spotted within seconds of stepping over the threshold of the History Building. The reporters shouted questions at them but Ty took Ashi’s arm and ushered her away without responding. They drove past them in silence.
When they arrived home Ty felt the house was too dark; there were too many echoes. A picture of Richard’s horrible, bulging-eyed face was engraved into his memory. His mind kept flashing back to the image. It was like a rubber Halloween mask that didn’t look real, but Ty knew it was.
Ashi saw Ty’s distress and suggested they stay up for a while. She pulled his hand toward the family room, where Ty sat on the sofa, his feet up on the ottoman and Ashi sat next to him. She reached for her laptop, which was still on the coffee table where she left it that morning.
“It’s so strange. Somebody does not want secrets to be revealed, so much that they will kill to keep them buried…,” Ty said.
“And somebody who wants them to be revealed,” Ashi supplied. “Maybe someone can not say the secret outright.”
“Yeah, you're right. There's a possibility that someone there wants the information to be revealed but would be in trouble if he announces it himself.”
“So he gives the information to someone else to reveal.”
“Yes,” Ashi said, absentmindedly, staring at the screen on her laptop again.
“What are you doing?”
“I keep thinking a piece of information about Charles de Charney is the answer to all our questions. I am trying to find out more about him.”
“But Ashi, the other night we searched for hours with all different search engines.”
“Still, there is something.”
Ty watched as Ashi continued to search the internet. She looked at the town of Charney, the area surrounding Charney, and googled the Charney castle. Ty was interested but his eyes grew heavier and heavier. Finally, he thought, I’ll just close them for a second. The next thing he knew, the sun, streaming through the windows, woke him up. He was leaning heavily against Ashi and she was leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder. He glanced at the clock on the DVD player and his body gave a start.
Ashi murmured, “What is it?”
“Time! It’s late! We’re late to school.”
Ashi looked at him and smiled. “Don’t you think we’re at a place in the road where there are two ways to go?”
“You mean a fork in the road?”
“Yes, fork. Whatever. We try hard to have a normal life and go to school like we are normal kids but…” She shook her head. “There is nothing normal about Richard’s murder.”
Ty sank back into the cushions. “Yeah, Richard.” He clasped his hands behind his head, thinking. “Besides, there's nothing normal about going to school and having every last kid there following you. It's become insane.” He glanced at Ashi. “Were you up late?”
“I slept for a couple of hours.”
“Did you find out anything?”
Ashi rubbed her face with her hands and shook her head.
“Well, since we’re not going to school today, what do you want to do?” Ty asked.
“Let’s go to France.”
“Huh?” Ty was speechless.
“I did not find anything else. We know there is still a de Charney estate in France. Why do we not go and see if there are any de Charneys living there and if they have any useful information.”
“Ashi, it’s not like going downtown to the bagel store. It’s France.”
“What is the big deal? I bought the plane tickets and found a very nice hotel already.”
“Whaaa?” He noticed the credit card he had given her lying on the coffee table.
“I think it is a good idea.”
Ty laughed. “Why not? You’re right. Phillipe de Charney is at the middle of every single piece of information we’ve found. That includes the very first fragment we saw in Cairo. When are we leaving?”
“The plane leaves at 1:00.”
“Today?”
Ashi nodded, proud of herself.
“What if we slept any later?”
Ashi shrugged. “Ooops.”
“Okay.” Ty peeked out the window.
“Hmm. I wanted to go out, but there are people out there just waiting to pounce on us the second we step out. What would we do without the security team?”
“I feel a little bit like an animal in a cage. Maybe we should try to sneak out,” Ashi said with a mischievous smile.
“Of course. We don’t want them to know we’re going away.”
“Let’s pack our suitcases. Then we will leave, just like we are going to school. We can ask the security people to bring the suitcases to the airport.”
“Ashi, I didn’t know you could be so sneaky, but they have to cover up the suitcases when they're bringing them out of the house,” Ty said, smiling. He was already mentally making a list of which cameras he would bring.
Ty packed quickly and watched CNN while he waited for Ashi. Preston and Tullio were commenting on the string of murders associated with the Templar mystery. The interviewer speculated that there might be some sort of hex on Templar discoveries, like a curse on opening a mummy's tomb. Preston sneered in response but before answering, a flicker of fear flashed on his face. He told the interviewer it didn't matter if there was a curse because he and Tullio were no longer researching or investigating anything that had to do with Templars. Tullio's eyes darted nervously as he added that it was always Vincent's quest and now that Vincent was gone, he and Preston had other subjects to examine.
Ty didn't notice Ashi watching the TV too, just behind him.
“Which one is the professor that cannot be trusted? They both look frightened,” she murmured.
****
Their plan went without a snag and soon they were in the air over New Jersey. Ashi watched intently out the window.
“Are you looking for our attacker?” Ty teased.
Ashi laughed and settled back in her seat.
“I think this time we really did get away without anyone following us,” Ty said. “I’ll be able to sleep on the plane.”
Ashi took his hand and Ty dozed, waking intermittently as they flew over the ocean far below. They landed in Paris in the afternoon and rented a car. By the time they checked into their hotel it was dinnertime and they decided to put off their trip until the next day.
Ty enjoyed their evening in the City of Lights. Ashi looked so beautiful in her white sweater, trimmed in fur. He took picture after picture of her and videotaped her while she talked.
“I always wonder, does the name Ashi mean anything?”
She giggled. “Ashi is not my real name. It was a name that was given to me when my parents brought me to the dzong. It means “princess.””
“They call you princess at your dzong?” He scrutinized her face. “Yes, I guess you are a princess.”
A thought suddenly struck him. “We’ve been calling you princess all this time? Do you want us to call you by your real name?”
“Princess is just fine with me,” she said. Her nose was up in the air, with mock haughtiness.
“Okay, Princess.” He thought, This is how it could be when there is no stress. When this is over, when we find everything out and solve every mystery, this is how it’s going to be. We will stroll down the street, with no worries or cares and nobody following us. He had forgotten about being chased and the murders for those moments and his thoughts jolted him back to reality. He glanced behind them and saw nobody suspicious.
“What is it, Ty?” Ashi asked, her arm linked through his.
Ty smiled. “Nothing. Nobody’s there. I was just checking.”
“Good. No fear.”
“Right. No fear,” he repeated.
****
For once, Ty was awake before Ashi and waited in the lobby of the hotel for her to get ready. He e-mailed all the team members, informing them as to his and Ashi's theories about Richard’s death. He also told them where he and Ashi were and their train of thought that led them to France. He ended the e-mail just as Ashi entered the lobby. Ty finished by telling them he’d keep them informed and send for them if he found anything important there.
“Ready yet? Why do I always have to wait for you?” Ashi joked.
“You’re just like a girl, taking forever to get ready,” Ty teased back.
“I think I’d like to drive today,” Ashi said with a laugh.
“You don’t know how to drive and I don’t want to take my life in my hands. It would be much safer if you only work the map.”
They joked back and forth all the way to the de Charney estate, stopping their bantering only when they pulled up in front of the black iron gate that barred them from the estate.
“That does not look like the castle I saw in our meditation,” Ty said in a small voice, gazing at the grand palace behind the gate, about a quarter of a mile away. It was made of cream-colored stone, had many wings, sporting floor-to-ceiling windows and chimneys that were too numerous to count.
“No, it does not. I think they added on,” Ashi said. Then they both burst out laughing at the huge understatement.
“Look, here’s an intercom,” Ty said, reaching through the driver’s side window and pushing the button. “Hello, hello,” he said, still laughing.
“We will not tolerate any ruffians loitering at the gate,” emerged a stern voice.
Ty straightened right up, surprised. He mouthed, “English!” to Ashi. “I’m sorry, sir. We've come to pay a visit to Monsieur de Charney.”
“May I ask who is visiting?” the voice asked, doubtfully.
“Tyler Scalisi.”
“One moment, please.”
They waited for about five minutes and just when they were about to leave, convinced they were not going to be admitted, the gate silently swung open. They drove up the long driveway and parked in front of the entrance of the mansion. Ty grabbed his camera bag from the back seat. The butler waited at the front door and stepped aside to let them enter. He turned without saying a word, expecting them to follow. The mansion was beyond opulent. The first floor of Ty’s large house would have fit in the foyer of this home. Ashi seemed to take the luxury all in stride and did not pay a second glance to the elegant, double staircase curving to meet on the second floor, from which hung a massive chandelier. They followed the butler through several lavishly furnished rooms and arrived at a library.
A man, standing at a window, with his back to the door, his hands clasped behind him, turned at the sound of the door opening.
“Aha, so you have finally come,” he said with a heavy French accent.
“Were you expecting us?” Ashi asked.
The man regarded her with cool eyes. “Actually, I was expecting Vincent. I suppose this means he really is…”
“Yes, he really is,” Ty said. “I am carrying on his work.”
An amused smile lifted the corners of the man’s mouth. “Really?”
“Yes,” Ty said, confidently.
“Well, in that case, I will introduce myself.” He walked toward Ty and extended his hand. “I am Jean-Henri de Charney.”
He appeared to be in his sixties, balding, tall and a little stooped, with a pudgy ring around his middle. His face was aristocratic, with a long nose and arched eyebrows that made him look perpetually surprised.
Ty looked at his hand just before shaking it and saw his ring. Again, the man looked amused when he saw Ty notice his ring.
“It’s unusual, isn’t it?” Jean-Henri said.
“Not really. I’ve seen the design several times before,” Ty said.
Jean-Henri ignored him and gestured at the chairs. “Let’s sit.”
“Why were you expecting Vincent?” Ty asked
“I thought Vincent, or I should say you, had found me out.” He laughed. “You were getting so close.” He waited for a second for Ty’s response. Genuine surprise crossed his face when he realized Ty was puzzled. “You don't know, do you? I am Grand Master!”